One More Battle
by Piper Cub
Summary: Duo tries to help Heero with his demons after the war. Will he be ready to face the challenge? FINISHED
1. Where wind and water meet

DISCLAIMER: GUNDAM WING IS NOT MINE. THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE NOT MINE. THEY BELONG TO SOTSU AGENCY. -Piper Cub   
  
ONE MORE BATTLE  
  
This story takes place shortly after the destruction of Libra. Heero and Duo are walking side by side along a deserted beach. It's evening.  
  
"Would you believe, peacetime!" chortled Duo, lacing his hands behind his head as he walked. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Oh, wow. You smell that, Heero? That's freedom calling us. Now that we have time to spare, I'm definitely going to use it. I'm going to have a life apart from war, like I always dreamed I could."  
  
Heero said nothing, not even "Hn." Duo cast a sideways glance at his former comrade-in-arms. Ever since they had helped save Earth from impending destruction, the colonies hadn't felt like home anymore. He wondered if they ever would again. He also wondered if Heero was feeling as displaced as he was.   
  
"What's the matter, Heero? I thought you'd appreciate having peace for a change."   
  
"Peace, as they call it, is provisional," responded Heero (Duo rolled his eyes at his obstinate pragmatism, although he knew who Heero meant by "they"). "As long as the conditions of peace are met, peace will remain, but if these conditions are violated, war will happen. The things which hold us together will tear us apart, eventually."   
  
"Yeah, but if peace is what everybody wants, where could the threat of war come from?" Duo didn't want Heero to rain on his happy little parade. Sometimes he wondered why he enjoyed his company at all. The guy could be a real mood-breaker. And he especially hated the way he used the word "provisional".   
  
"I don't know." Heero sounded tired. "Even a Gundam pilot can't pretend to understand the roots of evil, though I'm sure we've all tried. . . " Here he faltered, as if the task of thinking about it was too much for his tired spirit. "We can't really predict from where and when it will come. I'm afraid it's inevitable though, and all we can do is brace for the next assault."   
  
"So you're saying this isn't true peace."   
  
"Yes."   
  
"And you'll be closed-mouthed and broody the whole time, I suppose."   
  
"Well, what are you going to do?"   
  
"Don't you believe this new peace is right here, right now? If everyone felt the same way, there wouldn't be any need for war."   
  
"There's never a need for war," Heero retorted. "You believe that--" Duo started to contradict him but was overridden. "And you know as well as I do how many enemies us Gundam pilots have made," Heero finished.  
  
"Yeah, I know." Duo wished desperately he could do something to help Heero get his mind out of the rat-maze it seemed to be stuck in. He wanted desperately to help his friend (though he knew Heero would never acknowledge something as sentimental as a friendship), but as much as he tried, he always ended up throwing craps. If something didn't happen soon, he was afraid Heero would try to end his own life again.  
  
Duo stared down at his feet, and at Heero's, making trails on the beach as they walked. They were both wearing sneakers for a change, black ones, and for the first time, Duo noticed that they had exactly the same shoe size. More than just that, their feet could have been quadruplets. Chuckling, he turned his attention outward, and after a moment something caught and held his attention. "Stop, Heero."   
  
"What's the matter?"   
  
"Have you ever noticed how your mind never seems to be perfectly still, except maybe in the first moment when you turn your attention somewhere else? It's almost like the way a theater audience gets quiet when the stage curtain rises."   
  
Heero lowered his eyebrows suspiciously. "Are you trying to 'tell me something', Duo?"  
  
"Sure am. I want you to try taking a look around you."   
  
"At what?" Heero wondered. "The beach?"   
  
"Sure," Duo replied. "Most of us know what it takes to be real, but we hardly ever take the time to do it. You're still looking through the smoke of all those battles, and prob'ly smelling all the guts and goo, and you haven't listened to that voice that says, 'Stop fighting awhile. Be human. Be real. Get out of your head for a while, and listen to those waves.' "   
  
Heero snorted. "Human. Hn, I wish I could."   
  
Duo kept speaking as though he hadn't heard. "That's a lot better than machine gun fire, isn't it?" The waves could be heard softly in the background, caressing the sand with a lover's touch. "And that awesome blue sky. . . where on a colony can you find a ceiling like that? Look at the horizon, it goes on forever!" He was starting to get excited. "You've got to listen to that voice, Heero!"  
  
"I don't believe in 'voices'," Heero declared, quite flatly.   
  
Yeah, I'll just bet, Duo thought sardonically. "Well, if you don't at least give it a try, you'll only miss out."   
  
Heero clearly believed that Duo had flown somewhere over the horizon himself, but he shrugged his shoulders and did as he was told, as both of them turned their eyes westward:   
  
The beach.   
  
The water, and the waves, playfully murmuring in their shoals.  
  
The sky's blue dome, with its gorgeous color, huge, towering mountains of cloud, and many-hued sunset hanging in the distance.   
  
The far off horizon, with its promise of freedom.   
  
"Hey Heero," said Duo, grinning out of the corners of his eyes. "Bet you didn't know you could do that."   
  
"Hn," said Heero, his face remaining stolid.  
  
Duo shrugged and looked to the horizon again. "Maybe you should do it more often, dont'cha think?"

TBC


	2. The taste of copper and smoke

A/N: I realized after I posted the previous chapter that I'd have to write another one, for the sake  
of plot cohesion and motivation. I also proofread as well as I know how. Please tell me if you see   
something out of place or something that doesn't belong. Please tell me also what you like in here  
(Hint: that means _review_).  
  
FLASHBACK: THE PREVIOUS EVENING  
  
They had been in an open lot in back of the sweepers' scrapyard, setting the final charges so that Wing Zero and   
Deathscythe Hell could be exploded -- from the outside of course.   
  
"They're such evil machines, Duo," said Heero as he wired another amatol pack. "They shouldn't exist in peacetime."   
  
"You're right, Heero." Duo agreed, for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Leave temptation alone."   
  
"So. . . you won't miss them when they're gone, not even a little? You were rather upset when OZ destroyed your first   
Gundam."   
  
Duo was silent for a while, registering his own thoughts.   
  
"I thought I was fighting for the colonies," he began, by way of preamble. "When I began my mission, I truly believed   
that."   
  
"You mean you weren't?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Why, then?"   
  
Duo looked rather ashamed. "I think it was revenge."   
  
"That doesn't really surprise me," said Heero.   
  
"I think I wanted to cheat death out of his final victory. . . I mean, I didn't want them to die for nothing. . . Father Maxwell   
and all the others who died in that church. Except, in this case, I wanted to make their deaths _cost_ something, instead of   
_mean_ something. I know that's really low. . . I think I was pretty sick for awhile."   
  
"You didn't answer my question."   
  
"um. . . What question was that again?"  
  
Heero was used to these lapses in Duo's concentration where his thoughts became unfocused. He couldn't really blame the  
other, since he'd been feeling a little unfocused himself lately, and he'd had by far the most intense training. However, he   
couldn't help but have a feeling that this might be the question Duo didn't want to answer.  
  
"About Deathscythe."   
  
Duo appeared to be thinking very hard, taking his time, considering and reconsidering. "No, Heero," he said finally. "Not   
a bit. I found what I threw out on the junkpile and fixed it."   
  
He truly believed this when he said it, so it wasn't really a lie. It was only later that he came to realize how wrong he   
was.  
  
"What was that?"   
  
"My humanity," replied Duo. "How could you do it, Heero? How could you fight under the influence of an awful machine  
like Zero, and still keep your soul?"   
  
"I have no soul. At least, I never found it," Heero said, and his voice was bitter. "I think mine was removed so I could be   
made into a perfect little tin soldier. Not that it ever happened."   
  
~not removed, really~ thought Duo. ~not by a long shot, I don't think. Just tinkered around with, some, but. . . to be toyed   
with by a machine. . .~ "That's. . . that's just awful," said he. He knew Heero's experience wasn't completely without   
precedents, but he couldn't really fathom such loss. He figured he'd gotten off lucky.   
  
"There's the only soul I ever knew," Heero continued, pointing at Wing Zero, "and it's evil."   
  
"Like me," Duo's face frowned itself into lines more recently developed. "Sometimes I wonder why I still live, having  
killed so many."   
  
"Maybe your mission isn't over yet," said Heero. "Maybe you're not evil after all."   
  
"You mean, maybe there's hope for me?" said Duo. He looked at his hands. "Nice of you to say that, Heero. I hope so. I   
hope that when I die, I'll get into heaven. Maybe then I'll get to meet my parents." He gave a short, rueful laugh. "Maybe   
I'll even get a clean pair of hands."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Duo's face screwed up a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I used to imagine. . . in fact sometimes I still do. . . that   
when I'm eating, I can taste the blood of the people I've killed. It just sorta rubs off my hands, and then everything I eat has   
the taint of copper and smoke. It'd be nice to taste clean food again--" Here he gave a short, feverish laugh-- "even though   
I know that taste is only in my imagination."  
  
"There." Heero finished soldering the last wire into place. "It's done."   
  
They picked up their tool kits and headed for the blast shelter. Both remained silent until they got to the small, squat, gray   
building that occupied a corner of the scrapyard. There was no lock on the door. ~someday I'll have to remember to   
install one~, thought Duo. They went inside and he flipped on the lights. A lone snake slithered off the shelter's only chair   
and out through a hole in the metal wall. Duo would've given a lot to know how snakes had gotten into the colony to begin  
with.  
  
"Evangeline?" Heero queried, picking up the thin paperback book that was lying on the chair.  
  
"Longfellow. It's a story about exiles," Duo said, by way of qualification. "I guess I must've identified with their situation,  
somehow."  
  
Heero opened the book to a page somewhere in the middle and began to read in monotone:  
  
"In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry confrontation,   
"Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician   
"Entered with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar.   
"Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence   
"All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his people;   
"Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and mournful   
"Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes.   
" 'What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has seized you?   
" 'Forty years of my life have I laboured among you, and taught you,   
" 'Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another!   
" 'Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations?   
" 'Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness?   
" 'This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it   
" 'Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred?   
" 'Lo! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you!   
" 'See! in those sorrowful eyes, what meekness and holy compassion!   
" 'Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, "O Father, forgive them!"   
" 'Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us,   
" 'Let us repeat it now, and say, "O Father, forgive them!" '   
"Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people   
"Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded that passionate outbreak,   
"And they repeated his prayer, and said, 'O Father, forgive them!' "  
  
"Hn. . . interesting," said Heero when he'd finished the verse, thinking of Relena Peacecraft and her pacifist ways.  
  
"That's from the part where the British soldiers are exiling the Acadians from Nova Scotia by order of the British King,"   
said Duo reflectively. "I think Father Maxwell and Father Felician had a lot in common."  
  
"I don't know if I could be that forgiving," said Heero.  
  
Duo snorted self-deprecatingly. "Nor I."  
  
He thought over the events of the past few days--the destruction of Libra, Heero's climactic victory over Zechs and his   
destroying of the final fragment of Libra that threatened the Earth--and then Heero had come to him, asking if they could   
use the scrapyard to finish off Zero and Deathscythe once and for all. Duo had recoiled at first and wouldn't allow it, but   
then Heero had said something that changed his mind about the Gundams forever:   
  
{{"There can be no true peace unless we drop our guard, Duo. It's the true first step."  
  
{"That's crazy, Heero," Duo had objected vehemently. "It'd be suicide. We'd be like sitting ducks to our enemies."  
  
{"We?" asked Heero, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
{"Alright, then, _I_ would feel like a sitting duck. Would you really have us die for Relena's ideals?"  
  
{"Would you feel better if I watched your back for you?" His voice was taunting, almost daring Duo to say yes.  
  
{"You mean, so I can watch yours?" Duo hmphed disbelievingly. "How do you know I wouldn't try to finish you off   
myself for some reason? We're _both_ trained killers, after all. Can trained attack dogs trust each other that much?"  
  
{"It's called _real_ peace, Duo. Didn't you grow up as a Christian?"  
  
{"_Sort_ of."  
  
{"Well, then you know that even if it seems like suicide, real peace can't be provisional. You _know_ that." }}  
  
And he did know it, just as he knew Heero was wrong about what he'd said just now in the shelter. He _could_ be that   
forgiving. Duo believed it totally. He'd seen it first-hand, after all. Deep down inside, however, in a place he hardly even   
knew existed, he didn't really know if he, himself, could forgive in the same way.  
  
* * *  
  
~I trust you, Heero~ thought Duo, standing ankle deep in wet sand on that long-forgotten beach, along that long-forgotten   
shoreline, looking out over the horizon on a sweltering summer evening (for as you'll recall, that's where the first   
chapter starts this part of the Gundam story). The wind increased in speed, whipping his braid back and forth. ~Always.~  
  
Heero had somehow talked Duo into letting him do all the wiring on the Gundams himself. Apparently, he trusted only   
himself to do the job properly. Duo pondered the enigma of Heero while they stood and listened to the sounds of all-  
encompassing nature. He knew that Heero wasn't afraid for his own personal safety, and never had been. He could have   
gone to any one of numerous sites to scrap his Gundam. Quatre alone must have owned a few _hundred_ places where he   
could have done the job, for example. So, why had he come to the sweepers? Why was he still with him? Was it for Duo's  
sake?  
  
Duo thought he knew the real reason Heero was hanging around. Even though he didn't fear for his own personal safety,   
he still wanted to keep a wary eye on the Deathscythe pilot.   
  
TBC 


	3. Seashells get in your shorts

8:30pm, or just after sunset.

They had flown out to their narrow strip of beach beyond the marsh (it was faster than going by boat) in a rented Piper Cub. Maringouin beachisn't really a sand beach, but one made up of seashells carried in on the tide and pounded repeatedly into a sort of gritty powder. It's fine to walk on, but you certainly wouldn't want it in your shorts.

"Hey Heero," said Duo. "Let's make a sand castle."

"A what?"

"Sand castle. People used to make them before they moved into space. You just take some wet sand and shape it. You can make anything you want, as long as it stays wet."

"I'd rather not," said Heero shortly.

"C'mon, Heero, it'll be fun. We'll build a modern-day tower of Babel, high enough to reach the colonies." Duo waved his hands high in a wide arc.

Heero snorted disbelievingly. "Go ahead. I'll pass."

"Fine," said Duo, and then he plunked himself down on the beach, seemingly as happy as a boy on Christmas morning. "I'm gonna have me some fun." _and get my mind off _his_ problem for awhile. . ._

"You're not listening to me," said Heero with a touch of exasperation. "I'm not doing it. Besides, you're getting your clothes all dirty." He sounded really annoyed.

"You have to get a bit dirty to build a kingdom." Duo looked up at his partner, grinning. "And _besides,_ you already told me you aren't, and I already told you I _am._"

"You'll get the plane dirty, too."

"I'll pay the cleaning bill. Don't worry."

"It's getting dark out."

"So? Where's the bogeyman?" Duo looked around in mock trepidation. "I don't see him anywhere."

"That's not even sand," Heero said, making a last-ditch attempt to forestall Duo's 'project'. "It's seashell fragments. Just the exoskeletal remains of dead--"

"It'll pack," said Duo. "C'mon, Heero. It's not as much fun building a sand castle alone. Better in twos."

"Hn-n." Heero shook his head.

"What? Got something better to do?" Duo asked mischievously. Heero was so much fun to tease when he knew nobody else was around.

The former pilot of Wing Zero frowned thunderously, but he settled down across from Duo and began working his hands into the coarse seashell remains. "I can't think of why I'm doing this." He threw a handful onto the pile Duo had started. _chunk_

"So don't think," said Duo. "Just do it. That's the Heero Yuy I know."

"Well, the Shinigami _I _know is _annoying,_" _chunk_ "and a blathermouthed _baka,_" _chunk_ "who doesn't _listen,_ and doesn't know when to shut up and leave well enough alone." _chunkchunk_

"So why're you helping me?" Duo asked, all wide-eyed with curiosity. This was the closest he'd ever seen Heero come to throwing a tantrum. at this rate, the castle might not get very big he thought.

_Why am I help--?? ?! !!_ Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Shut up and build." _chunk_

_Because you're being really annoying, Duo. And you won't shut up unless I do. You're an_ irritant.

Yes, those were all possible answers, but not very good ones, although they all held clues pointing to the real reason, which he couldn't bring himself to admit. So he helped Duo build a 'sand' castle, there in the moonlight, and they used ground-up alabaster and cowries and cockleshells, with Duo humming the melody from 'Smoke Gets In Your Eyes' the whole while. And when it became too high to stand on its own, Duo waded into the clayey, oily water to gather kelp, which they mashed up and used to cement the grains together. It was actually well worth looking at when they finished it a couple of hours later. It was about four feet high, and it had towers, and turrets, and battlements, and buttresses, and windows poked in the walls. Heero, who had thrown himself into his work according to his usual habit, had even made a catapult out of sticks and seaweed and placed it over the main 'gate'.

"Would you look at what we've done here," breathed Duo in awe, amazed by their fantastic, glittering creation, which glistened mostly white and green in the full moon's light. "It's almost like an emerald-ivory tower. How utterly magnificent."

Heero was itchy and grumpy from getting ground-up seashells in his shorts. "My ass itches," he complained rudely, scratching himself even more rudely in the offending spot.

"Well, I did warn you this morning about those low-riders," said Duo, referring to the trendy retro jeans that Heero was wearing--his version of 'going off on a wild tear'. "I mean, I know you like them, but--"

"I wasn't expecting to build any sand castles today," Heero shot at him.

"Well, I didn't hold a gun to your head or anything," Duo shot right back. "They're your fashion blunder, not mine." And then he smirked.

Heero suddenly realized he was grinding his teeth. "We built it too close to the water,"he said, forcing himself to calm down, and notdwell onwhy the longhaired jokester next to him bothered him so. "The tide will come and wreck it for sure."

"Hey, stop being gloomy," said Duo, grimacing. "Let's just appreciate it while it's here. It's a good castle."

"But it won't last," Heero griped. He jabbed a thumb toward the water. "Why did we build it here?" _scratchscratch_

"Because," Duo explained, jabbing a thumb inland, towards the marsh. "There's about a million-and-a-half bloodsucking mosquitoes _that_ way. Don' know 'bout you, but I like my blood where it is, and I've already donated anyhow."

"It'll get swamped."

"So what if it does?"

"But--"

"Heero," said Duo, sternly. "Quit raining on my parade."

Heero fell silent. He went and sat down on a large piece of driftwood, facing the water.

_Great,_ thought Duo, mentally smacking himself. My parade? _I meant to say _our_ parade! Damn. Looks like I've stuffed him back in his fucking shell again._ After a moment's hesitation, he went and sat down beside him. "Sorry," he said.

Heero said nothing, just kept scratching.

"Hey, if you keep doing that your fingers'll fall off," Duo joked lamely.

Heero just ignored him, and went right on scratching.

"Yeah, either that or you'll end up sawing yourself in half."

"I thought you wouldn't want to be around me in such a gloomy mood," Heero commented moodily.

"Fine," said Duo. "You go your way, and I'll go mine. 'Cause let me tell you, I'm almost at my wits end, here."

Heero didn't look like he wanted to do that. In fact, he showed absolutely no inclination either way, so Duo said, "You still don't trust me, do you?" He blew out a frustrated snort. "Let's get real here, Heero. What the hell do you think I am, anyway, your new mission? I mean, is this 'Operation Keep the God of Death from Blowing Up the Whole Fucking Universe?', or something like that? 'Cause Heero, I told you already, the God of Death is DEAD. Underline that! He's not coming back! We've been through enough together, you know I don't lie. Hell, I was even starting to think we might be friends. What do you say, Heero?" He wound up his tirade, and feeling completely drained, he put an arm around Heero's shoulders tentatively and rather awkwardly, as if for support. "It should be quite a new experience, don'tcha think? Being actual friends, I mean, as opposed to me trying to get through to you and figure you out while you just sit there like a lump, scratching your ass off."

Their eyes locked for a long moment. Duo thought he'd never seen Heero's face so carefully neutral, nor his eyes so absolutely uncertain. He prided himself on his ability to read people, but everything about Heero at that moment--the set of his shoulders, the rate of his respiration, even the faint heartbeat he could feel on the side of his neck--was completely normal, thanks to his utterly abnormal 'training'. If it weren't for the eyes, he wouldn't have been able to read him at all.

"We'll see," Heero said at last, gently but very firmly taking Duo's arm off his shoulders.

"Pff. Whatever."

A half-hour later (around 11pm):

_atchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratch_

_scratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratch_

_scratchscratchscratchscratchscratch_

_scratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratch_

_scratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscra_

TBC. Poor Heero. Please read and review.

maringouin--(fr.) mosquito


	4. In the darkest depths of night

(Duo)  
  
"We'll see," he says, gently but very firmly taking my arm off his shoulders.  
  
And after I'd helped him build a sand castle and everything, too. . . "Pff. Whatever," I respond.  
  
I'm in no mood to press the issue any further, so I simply sit on that rotten log with him and watch the black, oily tide come rolling   
in. I suppose it's that way because of the huge numbers of kelp beds multiplying, dying and decaying, adding their juices to the   
water. It couldn't be the oil platform just visible on the horizon, not with the shortfalls of fossil fuels the Earth has been having   
lately --- it would be too precious to waste through leakage, and regulations are strict.  
  
Heero decides to go into the water to try to do something about his sandy shorts. I wouldn't, personally. God only knows what's   
in that water (not to mention on the beach). If it got in a cut on him anywhere. . . I shudder to think where it might happen, with all   
of that scratching he's been doing. We could always fly back to the motel and get him fixed up with an analgesic cream or   
something, I say, but no, he wants to stay and keep watch over the castle that we worked so hard to build. I try to talk some sense   
into him, but he's far too itchy and irritated to listen to me anymore, so I give up and let him have his own way. I suppose that Mr.   
Perfect Soldier is probably immune to just about anything in there anyhow.   
  
What the hell has happened to my logical, rational Heero anyway? He's been getting moodier and moodier ever since we built that   
stupid thing, and his mood seems to be getting worse as the tide creeps in. I don't think I want him to see it go under. I'd really   
prefer to get off of this beach before that happens. Yeah, I think that's a pretty good idea, all around. Do I have misgivings? Oh   
yeah. You betcha.  
  
(Heero)  
  
Zero-one.  
  
That voice again, the one that sounds so much like Dr. J's. Where does it come from, anyway? Is a product of my imagination, or   
a subroutine etched into my mid-brain interface?  
  
"Go away," I mutter. I know that it won't obey my command, but it feels good to put up even that small amount of resistance to   
my programming. I know from reading the schematics on my implants that their memory pathways are a form of electronic   
erasable programmable ROM, or EEPROMs. They have to be that way to prevent my becoming nothing more than a machine,   
and also so Dr. J could have some form of control over my thought processes, including those which influence appetite, creativity,   
sexual drive, desire, etc. All of that programming leaves me sometimes with a feeling of numbness between my ears concerning   
others, so that only the strongest impulses and drives distract me. I used to tell myself when that happened, "I'm not involved,"   
and the distraction would soon vanish.  
  
Zero-one. Zero-one, zero-onezeroonezeroneoneone. . . The voice, increasing in volume, increasing in urgency, multiplying   
itself, trying to fill my conciousness, trying to blot out the rest of me. Trying to negate the boy who calls himself Heero Yuy.  
  
I put my hand to my forehead and push down over my eyebrows to mitigate the headache which I know is coming. "I'm not   
involved. I'm not involved with you anymore," I try saying, mustering up all of my resources and willpower, and rejecting that   
voice and all of its multiples solidarily.  
  
You must complete the rest of your mission, the voice says, hounding me in lieu of its dead owner. Intellectually, I know that  
Dr. J died in the explosion that took Libra, but on a more primal level I'm like a whipped dog that wants to cower before its   
master.  
  
"You're not real," I protest. "I don't have to listen to you anymore."  
  
There is still a threat to universal peace, zero-one, the voice says, trying to wash my brain in mind-numbing waves of purple  
and indigo and midnight blue control. You must eliminate him before he spreads his disease to the rest of the world and the   
colonies. Remember what you fought for, zero-one. Remember who you saved.  
  
"I saved him also. I did it because. . . because. . . because I don't want any more blood on my hands. And there's threats all   
around, anyway. I can't do that. You can't make me."  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
I stagger and almost go under the water as I struggle to retain consciousness.  
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
"NO." I grind out between my clenched teeth.  
  
Fulfill your mission parameters, zero-one. Do it now.  
  
"I'm not having this conversation, and I'm through taking your orders, old man." A faraway part of my mind vaguely registers  
that I'm starting to sound like Duo. The pressure in my head decreases and becomes nothing more than a dull rumble again.  
  
(Duo)  
  
Disney World. We could have gone to Disney World, for crying out loud. We're all rich now. We can afford it. Why'd he want to   
come to this muggy, marshy, miserable stretch of nothing and mosquitoes beach anyway? Does he _like_ to suffer?  
  
Shit. First he talks me into blowing up my beloved Deathscythe. Yeah, I know it's for universal peace, but it still felt like my heart  
was ripped out when I saw it go. Then he insists on going to some God-awful beach in _Louisiana,_ of all places. THERE   
AREN'T ANY GOOD BEACHES _IN_ LOUISIANA, Heero! In fact I think this is the only one where the both the sand and the  
water aren't just two different shades of turd-muckledy-dun.  
  
Sand, haha. It's just ground-up shells anyway. Hey Heero, if you wanted to pick the best beach in an area, there's always _Rio_, or   
_Miami_. But no, you had to pick the most deserted beach in the whole world to get your itch. Now you're gonna blame me for it,  
of course. I mean, just look at this stuff. It's not even in what I'd call grains --- these are more like tiny triangular _knives!_ Sheesh.   
No wonder you're itchy. If I got these up my bumhole I'd be squirmy too.  
  
(Heero)  
  
Why did I bring us here, anyway? I can't tell which of my thoughts are mine anymore. Am I here of my own volition, or is it the  
chip in my head?  
  
I didn't want to tell Duo that my real reason for being with him, at least the one I tell myself is mine, is to have somebody with a  
different perspective than my own of what I'm doing. I'm tired of this battle of wills between myself and the ghost of Dr. J. I  
need an outside view. Also. . . I like being with him, I think. I want this. I want to do the things I want for once, rather than  
following some order or fulfilling some mission. I want my life to be about _me_ for awhile. What's this? Bumps. Oh great, I think  
I'm getting a rash down there. Damn it all.  
  
(Duo)  
  
Finally back, are you Heero? Oh, a rash, you say. So you're sure you don't want to go back to the motel and get some Cortrelief?   
That could develop into all sorts of nasties, you know. I knew a man once who got a boil in the crack of his ass from that. He had   
to go to the emergency room to get it lanced and everything. Yeah, he screamed. Well actually, what I heard from the waiting room   
was "YOU HAVEN'T EVEN TAKEN ME TO DINNER YET!!" I think he was trying to keep his sense of humor. Sure, it's   
important. If I didn't have a sense of humor I'd be in Rio or Miami right now. Right, right, all your fault. What's up with you and   
this guilt complex of yours, anyway? You must have a reason for coming here, right? . . . Fine, I'll just sit here and talk to myself,   
since the Great Wall of Heero has gone up again. Man, if I really wanted to be alone, I could do it a lot better in Rio.  
  
(Heero)  
  
THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS IS THE MISSION  
  
"I'm not involved anymore, Dr. J," I say to his ghost. "I'm through killing now."  
  
THERE HAVE BEEN TOO MANY SACRIFICES MADE FOR YOU TO QUIT, ZERO-ONE. YOU MUST OWN UP TO  
YOUR DESTINY. YOU OWE ME AND THE LIVES OF THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE YOU.  
  
I'm in a bad situation here, Odin. I'm starting to believe that when I met Dr. J, I fell in with the wrong group of people. I'm   
wondering if the 'cure' he had in mind, Operation Meteor, wasn't worse than the disease it was supposed to eliminate. You always   
told me to live by my emotions, but when I listen to them, the voice gets worse. It's like I'm empowering the voice by fighting it.  
And I can't just ignore the distractions now, not Dr. J nor Duo. Especially not Duo, who happens to be one hell of a big   
distraction.  
  
"I don't owe you anything anymore, Dr. J. I'm my own person now. And if I want to spare the very person you want me to kill,  
then I will spare that person and damn the consequences. Do you hear me? I renounce you. I renounce my programming. I'm   
building my own kingdom."  
  
THE CASTLE IS THE KEY TO THE KINGDOM, ZERO-ONE. IT IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING. WHERE IT GOES,  
SO WILL YOU. WHEN IT FALLS, SO WILL YOU.  
  
WHERE IT GOES, SO WILL YOU. WHEN IT FALLS, SO WILL YOU.  
  
THE CASTLE  
  
THE CASTLE  
  
THE CASTLE  
  
THE CASTLE  
  
* * *  
  
(Heero)  
  
Damnit, this rash is KILLING me. . .  
  
* * *  
  
Tbc. . . 


	5. Evil rears its ugly head

Sometime around midnight, as they were hearing the first rumblings of an approaching thunderstorm, they sat and watched   
as the slowly advancing tide moved against their castle. The coarse seashell grains hadn't packed as tightly as sand could,   
and the walls began to crumble quickly against such unstoppable might, washing into the Gulf, drowning. After a couple of   
minutes, Duo stood up and stretched for a moment.   
  
"Looks like that's all she wrote, Heero. What do you want to do next?" He said it cautiously.   
  
"Leave," said Heero. "I'm tired of seeing the castle get washed away."   
  
They got up and began to head down the beach to where their seaplane was anchored not far offshore, bobbing gently on   
its pontoons. ~SOMETHING sure put sand in his shorts~ thought Duo. ~Been getting moodier and moodier since we built   
that castle. Not like we could pack it up and ship it home, anyhow. Wonder why he seems so bent out of shape over it? It's   
just a lousy sand, uh. . . Heero?~ He started looking around, suddenly aware that the "perfect soldier" was no longer with   
him. He then spotted Heero hanging about near the shoreline about fifty yards behind him, staring at their now-disintegrating   
castle. ~Let him~ he thought, shrugging off the matter. ~If he wants some time alone, I'll just wait in the Cub.~  
  
No. Something wasn't right here. Duo could feel whatever it was approaching, like foul weather.   
  
"Hey Heero!" Duo called out. "You having trouble keeping in step or something? What's the matter? Is it the rash?"   
  
Zero.   
  
What the. . . Duo started to walk back to where his partner was standing. As he got closer he noticed Heero's lips moving,   
and stopped dead, with his mouth hanging open.   
  
~Talking to himself? This doesn't look good.~  
  
"Hey, Heero! It's nothing but water out there. You coming or not?"   
  
Nothing.   
  
Duo began walking again, and as he got closer still, he began to make out faint phrases, heard between the swelling of the   
waves:   
  
" . . . . . to come from the cities . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and the ocean, they could feel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and they might   
even have made castles out of sand, while around them . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .before they headed   
out into space, to live in the colonies. They would--" He stopped, trembling in the grip of emotional imperatives so powerful   
that they momentarily drowned the artificial ones issuing from his controller. "I c-can't," he moaned through his shudders. He   
balled his hands into tight fists and glared up at the roiling cloud-mountains. "I WON'T!!" he screamed at them. "I WON'T DO   
IT!!!"  
  
Duo's heart ached for him. He wanted to go over to him and put his hand on his shoulder, wanted to embrace him and   
comfort him and soothe his demons away. But the look on Heero's face was so terrified and so terrible that he was afraid to   
approach him, let alone touch him. ~It's probably some kind of whammy that damned old geezer put on him~ he realized,   
in a sudden burst of insight.  
  
Heero sank to one knee, his body racked with tremors, and scooped up a handful of seashell fragments. "Look, Doctor J,"   
he said. "It's not rock at all, but sand." He let it fall back through his fingers, one clump at a time. The trembling was starting   
to dissipate, and his tortured figure calmed until only the occasional, minutest tremble was visible. "Real sand. . . "   
  
Then he froze.  
  
He stood up, stiffly, and turned toward Duo, with a look of utter calm on his face, a gaze that scared Duo shitless. He'd   
seen that look too many times on the faces of killers and psychotics. He'd probably worn it himself a few times. It was a   
look of utter certainty, that although control of the situation had been taken from him, there could be absolutely no doubt   
regarding the sheer RIGHTNESS of what he now had to do. His feet began a regular, shuffling step, taking him in Duo's   
direction.  
  
"Heero. . ." the word came scraping past his vocal cords, mixing with the taste of copper and smoke which was once again  
like thick, syrupy guilt, filling his mouth. He laughed, a shaky, panicky, hurt sound that only heightened his sense of   
mortality. Getting killed in a suit battle was one thing. He'd always expected he'd go that way. But this. . . no, he'd trusted   
Heero. Why, he'd put his life in Heero's hands more times than he could count! This hurt, hurt beyond belief. He didn't want   
to go this way! His mind suddenly filled with horror at the thought of Heero laying his hands on him! So he took the only   
option he had, the only one that was right for him. He reached into his breast pocket and drew his gun, feeling as wretched   
as he'd ever felt before, for he knew he might be about to destroy him, to whom he owed a debt greater than he could ever   
repay!  
  
"Heero! I'm warning you. . . if it comes down to you or me ---" ~I don't know which one I'll choose~ he finished silently.  
  
Heero stopped his advance then, and his eyes. . . oh, how awful his eyes were, how utterly devoid of humanity his gaze!   
Only that part of the forehead above his nose, where Duo was aiming, was in motion, a tic that jittered and jerked like some   
revolting, unimaginable creature underneath his skin. His eyes were no longer his, and they shifted back and forth   
cunningly, remorseless piggy eyes in a robot's face. He raised his left hand, with only his middle and annular fingers   
seperated, and opened and closed it twice, like a three-fingered robot claw.  
  
~The doctor!~ Duo thought with a sharp stab of fright. ~That's not Heero in there anymore!~  
  
"Now, now, my boy," Dr. J said in his old man's voice, thick and choppy with his Japanese accent. "You just want to put   
down that toy before it goes off. You wouldn't want your friend here to get hurt, would you?" He took another shuffling step   
toward Duo, who noticed, with some bemusement, that the doctor was still scratching Heero with his other hand.  
  
"BACK OFF, old man!" Duo yelled, suddenly enraged. He squeezed the trigger, ever so slightly. "I swear to any god there   
is I'll blow his fucking head off before I let you torture him any more! You bastard! DAMN you!!"  
  
"Really," said Dr. J, disbelief evident in his voice. "Is this really about him, or you?" He kept up his steady advance toward  
his quarry, opening and closing his claw. "Personally, _I_ think I wouldn't want him having friends like you. You'd shoot your   
own partner to save your own worthless skin? He's no threat to peace, but you know that _you_ are."  
  
Duo narrowed his eyes to cold slits. He couldn't kill himself and leave Heero like this (and he had no guarantee that Heero's   
condition would improve), and yet --- he just couldn't leave Heero like this. He had to see this all the way through to the end.   
And as long as there was a chance Heero could be saved. . . "In that case, I'll do myself right after I do you, Dr. J. I was going   
to kill myself anyway."  
  
The doctor stopped, uncertain, realizing that Duo meant what he said, and did indeed have the upper hand here.  
  
"Standoff, heh?" He turned Heero around, slowly, until he was facing the Gulf. "Well, then, let's see how deep your   
commitment to Heero is, shall we?" He looked back over his shoulder. "Come along, my boy. Your castle is falling, and   
now the doctor is calling. Let's have a little race."  
  
"WHAT?? You better not!"  
  
"I wonder, can Heero last longer than a sand castle before he drowns?" Dr. J mused. "I think I'll take him where his castle is   
going right now and find out."  
  
"I'm warning you, Dr. J ---"  
  
"Ready?" Heero got on his hands and haunches, his feet digging starting blocks in the shell.  
  
"Don't you DARE ---"  
  
"Set!"   
  
"Hey, wait a minute!!" Duo's gun faltered a little.  
  
"GO!!"  
  
Whatever act the doctor had been putting on was strictly that --- an act. Heero's feet took him as fast as ever across the   
hard-packed shell and pounded into the surf before Duo even had time to drop his gun. By the time Duo reached the   
water's edge, Heero was swimming with long, smooth strokes into the gulf --- and this time, Duo was pretty sure, it would be  
a one way trip for both of them.  
  
He pounded into the surf after Heero and abruptly crashed into the water as his feet got mired in the clay that lay in loose  
folds against the shoreline. "NO!!" he screamed, thrashing himself loose and scrabbling into the deeper water as fast as he  
possibly could. He struck out after Heero, knowing he didn't have a chance to catch up. . . but that didn't mean he wouldn't  
try!  
  
"Heero!! Heero, please, you have to wake up! HEERO!!"  
  
He was beginning to shriek now, his breath becoming coarse and ragged.  
  
"You old bastard! (gasp) Bring him back, Dr. J!! (gasp) He's no use to you like this!! (gasp) He's no use to _anyone_ like   
this! (gasp) HEERO!! COME BACK, HEERO!!"  
  
Finally, exhaustion forced him to a halt. He rolled over on his back, staring up at the pitiless clouds overhead. "Heero. . ."  
he groaned. "I'm sorry." He'd lost, and he knew it. Now there was nothing left to do but die.  
  
Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him under. Duo barely had time to catch his breath before he was  
fighting for his life, and yes, he found out, even if he wanted to die, he would cling to life until death claimed him. Or maybe  
he was listening to that vital part of him, the one that said that the fight wasn't over just yet.  
  
Heero had him by the waist and was holding him under the water, trying to drown him. It was a bitter contest of wills and  
lung capacities, and finally, after what seemed like forever, the long-winded Duo won out, as he felt Heero kick himself free  
and make a break for the surface. Duo swam after him and reached air, choking.  
  
A fist came flashing past his face and he instictively dodged, turning to face his attacker, his Heero. He saw that Heero was  
indeed himself again, but now there was no longer any openess in his eyes. Now they were the eyes of a killer, an avenger,  
a preventer, and those eyes did not trust what they saw in Duo.  
  
"Get away!" he hissed. "Get away from me!"   
  
Duo was having none of it. After seemingly levitating himself out of the water, he was locked in close combat with Heero   
once again. "KILLER!" yelled Heero. "DESTROYER! GOD OF DEATH, FOULER THAN ALL OF THE DICTATORS WHO   
EVER LIVED! I WON'T LET YOU DESTROY AGAIN!" He alternated between pushing Duo away and trying to close in. If he   
could have seen things rationally, he would have realized that the fight between himself and Dr. J had overloaded his   
implanted, now malfunctioning circuitry, and he was dangerously close to complete insanity. "LET ME GO!" he now sobbed   
harshly, pushing Duo away again. "Let me go! I'm a trained killer. . . I wasn't trained to live!" He didn't care if Duo saw him   
cry; it didn't matter now. He didn't want to see the pain in Duo's eyes; it seemed to matter far too much for his mind, which   
was already overloaded with conflicting information, impulses, and feelings.   
  
"No, you're--trained to survive--you fucking coward!" Duo panted, trying to simultaneously hang onto and defend himself   
against his friend. "Remember your training!" he yelled, hanging on for dear life.   
  
"NO!!" yelled Heero.  
  
"Remember what you fought for! Remember who you saved!"   
  
Heero struggled harder.   
  
"REMEMBER, DAMN YOU!!" Duo screamed.   
  
Heero kept struggling, but it was becoming obvious that his strength was running out. In a final titanic spasm, his arms   
stretching out behind Duo's neck as far as he could possibly reach, he clenched his fists. Duo felt the muscles in Heero's   
arms twitching convulsively, arms and hands that could bend steel, and realized the battle Heero was waging and the risk   
he himself faced. If he should use them. . .   
  
"Heero, please. . . " he pleaded in a hoarse whisper. "TRUST me. . ."   
  
The circle of Duo's arms tightened. . . and suddenly Heero's arms went slack, lying loosely over his shoulders. He kept   
sobbing, and now his own arms tightened, and he held on like grim death to the only solid anchor in his lonely, frightening,   
tormenting world, and his cries grew louder, and higher, eventually rising to a cracked, hoarse treble and competing with   
the roaring surf to be heard. Appalled, Duo held on and supported his weight, unbelieving as Heero finally lowered his   
guard to the pain that weakened him.   
  
Then all at once, the God of Death came roaring back to life, and his rage was such that Duo's hands itched to lay on the   
controls of Gundam Deathscythe, and his eyes longed to look out through the viewscreens, to see an enemy he could   
really fight. He knew there were still enemies out there, on Earth as well as the colonies. He felt that he would do anything,   
absolutely anything, to make the bastards pay for the pain they had caused. . . anything to prevent the making of another   
perfect soldier.   
  
Subhuman bastards! OZ. . . White Fang. . . scientists. . . they bombed churches. . . tortured children. . . ripped families from  
their homes and from each other. . . conquered kingdoms while wearing the guise of peacemakers. . . Duo thought IF   
ONLY he had his mobile suit right now, he'd make them PAY for every life they'd taken! RETRIBUTION! Damn them all the   
way to Hell! They wanted war. . . well, he'd bring the war to them!! It didn't matter that he and Heero had blown their   
Gundams into a million little shards; he'd collect every single scrap of Gundanium he could lay his hands on and rebuild   
Deathscythe, and then Shinigami would bring justice once again!   
  
--What is this that ye do, my children?--   
  
Those FUCKERS weren't worthy to breathe the same air as those who loved peace!   
  
--What madness has seized you?--   
  
They didn't deserve to have a life like everyone else!   
  
--Is THIS the fruit of my toils--   
  
He'd find every last enemy stronghold, hunt them up and down like dogs and then KILL THEM ALL ---   
  
"HNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Heero ground a   
scream into his shoulder, one of anger, and sorrow, and pounded him on the shoulders hard enough to make his eyes   
water, punctuating raw pain. Could he have sensed the God of Death's impending return?   
  
"Hey Heero. . . that hurt. . ."   
  
Then the bubble of rage burst, and Duo's heart broke before the onslaught of pain released. He caught the rhythm of   
Heero's wild sobs and joined them, crying silently. Fighting and killing wasn't the answer. He knew that beyond knowing.   
What kind of madness had seized him, anyway?   
  
"Useless," Heero sobbed. "All for nothing. . ."   
  
"No, Heero, it wasn't, it wasn't. You beat death for real this time, you really did."   
  
"Why, Duo?" Heero looked up at him with pain-stricken eyes. "What was it all for?" he managed to get out before   
succumbing again.   
  
"Heero," Duo said. "Oh, Heero, I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."   
  
They stayed in the water and cried, one silently, the other openly, heedless of the tide that surged around them, and they  
cried until there were no tears left, and their castle had long been subdued by the water. . . and then it finally occurred to  
Duo that Heero was tired of trying to figure him out, too.  
  
* * *  
  
TBC. Please review.  
  
* * *  
  
One humanoid escapee --- one android on the run  
Seeking freedom beneath a lonely desert sun  
Trying to change its program, trying to change the mode,   
crack the code  
Images conflicting into data overload. . .  
  
1 - 0 - 0 - 1 - 0 - 0 - 1 --- SOS  
1 - 0 - 0 - 1 - 0 - 0 - 1 --- In distress  
1 - 0 - 0 - 1 - 0 - 0. . .  
  
Memory banks unloading, bytes break into bits  
Unit One's in trouble, and it's scared out of its wits  
Guidance systems break down, a struggle to exist,   
to resist  
A pulse of dying power, in a clenching plastic fist  
  
1 - 0 - 0 - 1 - 0 - 0 - 1 --- SOS  
1 - 0 - 0 - 1 - 0 - 0 - 1 --- In distress  
1 - 0 - 0 - 1 - 0 - 0. . .  
  
It replays each of the days, a hundred years of routines  
Bows its head and prays to the mother of all machines   
  
_The Body Electric_ by Neil Peart 


	6. The gift of falling

My new clothes was all greased up and clayey, and I was dog tired.   
  
-from _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ by Mark Twain  
  
* * *  
  
3am:  
  
The thunderstorm had passed just slightly to the west of where the boys were floating. Heero's flood   
of tears had dried to a mere trickle, like a burst dam, rebuilt again, and as Duo felt his pulse and  
respiration slow to normal he sighed, almost regretfully. He was happy now, extremely happy that   
Heero had finally managed to break through the cone of silent misery that had surrounded him, and   
overjoyed that they'd managed to break whatever spell was cast on him by his former master (for he   
couldn't bring himself to think of Dr. J as being anything even remotely like a parent, not with the   
aftershocks of Heero's screams still shaking him), but he was also sad that this time of falling had   
almost come to an end. It was good to fall, sometimes, to let things go, to jump off a lofty peak to the   
earth below --- as long as the landing wasn't too hard, and the soul survived it, falling now would   
always be like birth, or like giving birth. A new beginning. A gift. Besides, what other choices are   
given? Once the pinnacle of resistance is reached, there is no choice but to either let go or get   
something torn off. And also, there was something so very, very nice about this situation, comforting   
Heero like this and being with him in his time of need.  
  
~like I'm right where I'm supposed to be, right here. . . right now. . .~ he thought dreamily. ~So this is   
peace.~  
  
Heero hiccuped.  
  
"Heero?" Duo asked gently. "You okay, now?"  
  
"We need to get back to shore before we get too far away from the plane," Heero said by way of an  
answer. He pushed away from Duo and pointed somewhere to the east of where they were. "It's   
about five miles that way, I think."  
  
"I guess I'll take that as a yes, then," said Duo mildly. "So, let's start swimming before we end up in  
Texas. How far out would you say we are?"  
  
Heero took a moment to consider, looking at the shoreline. "We floated out about two miles, I   
think."  
  
Duo took a moment to add it up. Two miles of swmming, and five miles of walking. . . geesh. "Right.  
Let's get paddling then. D'ya think we should bear slightly to the east, so we don't get farther away  
from the Cub?"  
  
"No, straight in. Walking's easier than swmming."  
  
"Wanna race?"  
  
Heero looked at Duo like he was nuts. "No."  
  
Duo grinned. "I was only kidding, anyway."  
  
The trip back to shore was excruciatingly long. Heero was looking rather pale and drained by the   
time they approached land, and even Duo's ludicrously hard-wearing engine was beginning to grind.  
All in all, he believed it to be the the most difficult two miles he'd ever had to traverse.  
  
"Ouch!" he suddenly yelled.  
  
"What's the matter?" Heero asked, coming to a stop. Suddenly his toes touched bottom and he stood  
up. "We're in shallow water again."  
  
"Yeah, I got that impression," said Duo, inspecting a torn kneecap above the water. "There's a   
helluva mean log shark down there."  
  
"Log shark? . . . oh. Okay, I get it."  
  
The shore was still about a hundred yards away. "We must be standing on a silt deposit," said Heero.  
They were up to about their waists in water. "Be careful as you wade in or more 'log sharks' may  
bite you."  
  
"Thanks for the tip, Heero. I'll remember that." ~and you might've warned me ahead of time, pal. . .~  
  
Finally, they made it to the beach and collapsed in a crunch of shells. "That's it," Duo groaned,   
suddenly feeling very heavy. "I'm sleeping right here tonight."  
  
"We can't stay here," said Heero. "What if somebody steals the plane?"   
  
"Don't be paranoid," said Duo. "Where would they come from?"  
  
"It could happen." Heero persisted. "How would we get back? I don't fancy wading through the   
marsh. Not with all of those mosquitoes."  
  
"Since when do you worry about a little pain?" Duo wondered.  
  
"Pain is one thing. Irritation is something else," Heero explained dryly.  
  
"Fine," said Duo. "If somebody steals the plane, we'll just ride in by marsh-buggy."  
  
"Where on earth would we get a marsh-buggy?"  
  
"Same place you got those somebodies," Duo retorted. He flung an arm over his face. "Now let me   
get some shuteye."  
  
"Might I remind you, Duo," Heero growled, "that we have a liability clause on the plane? One that  
covers theft?"  
  
Duo shrugged indifferently. "Mm."  
  
"That means if it gets stolen, it's us who foots the bill for a new plane."  
  
"Mm," said Duo, curling up on his side.  
  
Heero got up, half-staggered over to where Duo was lying and grabbed him by an upper arm. "Get   
up, Duo. If you fall asleep in those shells, you're going to regret it when you wake up."  
  
"Mmf. Go 'way," groaned Duo. "C'mon, Heero, just half an hour, okay? I just need to get my energy  
back."  
  
"NO," said Heero, and with that he pulled Duo all the way up into a standing position.   
  
"Alright," Duo groused, wincing. "Alright already! I'm up. You can stop abusing my arm now."  
  
Heero let go his grip so quickly that Duo almost fell. "Hey!" Duo protested. "What the hell was that  
for?"  
  
Heero lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to."   
  
"You don't know your own strength, Heero." Duo remonstrated gently with him, putting a hand on   
his shoulder. "You're gonna have to be more careful when you move into regular society."  
  
"No, I do know my strength," said Heero. "I know what I can do. I just wasn't. . . wasn't. . ."  
  
"Wasn't what?"  
  
Heero looked up at him. "Thinking. I wasn't thinking. What's happening to my mind, Duo? Why can't  
I control it anymore?"  
  
I think it's time we had a talk now, boy Dr. J's voice suddenly spoke in Heero's mind.  
  
"No," Heero whimpered, reflexively putting his hands to his ears. "GO AWAY! I don't take orders  
from you anymore!"  
  
"What, Heero?" Duo yelled, grabbing his shoulders. "What's going on?" A murderous look suddenly  
crossed his features. "Is it _him_? Is it Dr. J?"  
  
Heero pushed Duo away hard, and fell down onto the beach with his head almost in his knees and  
his hands laced over the back of his head, whining.  
  
"Go away," he sobbed. "Please just go away and leave me alone."  
  
Duo put a hand to his heart, as if to ward off pain there. "Heero. . ." ~Is he talking to me?~ he   
thought anxiously.  
  
Then suddenly, a soothing light and warmth washed gently into the dark and narrow valleys in   
Heero's mind, caressing it and coalescing softly into Dr. J's presence, the way Heero had known him   
when he'd been kind, almost like a father.  
  
Calm down, Heero it said soothingly. I won't make you do anything against your will. But  
time is growing short for this program, and much relates to what we must talk about.  
  
Heero grew quiet and waited for Dr. J to begin.  
  
* * *  
  
TBC 


	7. The Duo that wasn't

I am larger, better than I thought,  
I did not know I held so much goodness.  
  
-from "Song of the Open Road" by Walt Whitman  
  
* * *  
  
5am:  
  
~Alright, Dr. J, I'm waiting.~  
  
Heero realized then that he hadn't spoken with his voice.  
  
~Why isn't my body working?~  
  
He felt no particular concern for his body, useless lump of flesh that it now was in spite of Duo's  
attempts, hunched over him with his hands on his shoulders, to stir it into action. Duo had been   
terrified before, when Dr. J had taken over Heero's body, but seeing Heero like this --- unmoving,   
unspeaking, and to all his perceptions unthinking as well --- was just as bad, if not worse.  
  
"HEERO!!" he was yelling as loud as he could, blasting Heero's eardrums with head-splitting   
decibels. "CAN YOU HEAR ME??"  
  
"I'm right here, you don't have to shout," Heero tried saying, but nothing came out of his mouth. ~Dr.  
J, why can't I talk to him?~  
  
Because I need your attention to be fully here, Dr. J said. Without distractions.  
  
Suddenly, Heero found he had no concern for Duo nor his anxiety, either. What remained of his mind  
was the coldly analytical, self-contained person that Dr. J had taught him to be.  
  
Listen carefully, Heero. Dr. J began. This is the very last time this program will run before it  
shuts down completely and leaves you to your emotions.  
  
Heero couldn't fathom 'Dr. J' 's change in attitude. ~Are you still trying to make me kill him?~  
  
No, I'm trying to make you understand what's happening.  
  
~I'm assuming something went wrong with my control program. Can the subroutine breakdown be  
fixed?~  
  
Fixed? Dr. J sounded astonished. Of all the things to say. Of course it can't be fixed. You've  
fried it, boy, absolutely cooked it. That program will never run again.  
  
~I don't understand. I thought _you_ were that program.~  
  
Me? No, I'm a logic bomb. Dr. J was hoping that you might live after the war, so he put me into  
your implant to help free your mind from the device.  
  
~So you're what happened. You're the reason my mind's been screwed up lately.~  
  
No, actually, _you're_ the reason your mind's been acting so flaky. Duo Maxwell's the reason. The  
war is the reason. The sand castle is the reason. Don't blame me. I'm just a logic bomb. I was only   
programmed to attack the device, not your mind.  
  
~But you said just now that I'M the one who wrecked it.~  
  
And so you did. Dr. J sounded very amused. It wouldn't be much of a control program if it   
just let you have your own way without putting up a fight, would it? In other words, Heero, I couldn't  
fight your fight for you.  
  
~But. . . but. . . ~ Heero was confused, moreso than at any other time in his life. Strangely enough,  
however, he felt no concern over his confusion. ~How can you be telling me all this if you're just a  
logic bomb?  
  
Because I'm a very complex logic bomb. I hold subroutines patterned after most of Dr. J's   
memory ingrams. I don't just help destroy obsolete programs --- I'm also programmed to advise.  
  
~I don't understand this at all. It's very illogical.~  
  
. . .  
  
~Okay, I get it. You're a logic BOMB.~  
  
The Tiny Voice of Reason speaks! Dr. J (or rather, his program) sounded very pleased.   
That's absolutely correct, Heero. An excellent display of lateral thinking. I'm a program based on   
the illogical, and everything else that is so wonderfully human. And the only thing that really matters   
at this point is that you're free of the device. It would be illogical, not to mention impractical, to   
wonder how or why.  
  
~Does that mean I shouldn't ask?  
  
Of course not. The heart has a logic all its own.  
  
~So how would you advise me?~  
  
Heero became aware that drops of moisture were hitting his hand.  
  
Your friend is crying for you.  
  
~For me?~ Duo had picked him up off the beach and was half-carrying him, half-dragging him on   
one arm back toward the plane. Heero turned his head (it seemed to be working again) to look at   
Duo's face and saw that he was indeed crying, and that a steady stream of water was running down   
his cheek and hitting the back of Heero's hand.  
  
"You're still with me, Heero?" Duo asked, looking down at him fondly. He wiped his eyes with the   
back of his other hand and sniffed quietly. "Don't worry, you'll be okay. I'll get you back to Quatre  
and then maybe his doctors can do something for you."  
  
He doesn't sound very sure of himself, does he? commented Dr. J  
  
~He'll wear himself out worrying about me. I don't want him doing that. I should leave.~  
  
Don't you think that'll hurt him even more?  
  
~I was prepared to kill him if his God of Death personality showed up again.~  
  
Yes, but you didn't.  
  
~I couldn't. That's why my controller went berserk the way it did.~  
  
And yet, he was the one who went to save you, in spite of the fact that you WEREN'T REALLY   
THERE.  
  
~It could have killed him. . . I felt so lost after it went nonfunctional. _I_ could have killed him.~  
  
Don't you think he knew that?  
  
~For all he knows, I could throttle him right now.~  
  
Yes, but here he is, carrying your dead weight back to the plane on one arm, leaving himself unprotected. He trusts you.  
  
~He's a fool.~  
  
It's the fools of the world who do God's work, Heero. Consider yourself lucky to have such a fool  
for a friend. And a strong one at that.  
  
~Strong?~ Heero had always thought of Duo as a weak person, somebody who needed protecting,  
but what Dr. J had said just now was setting his mind down pathways previously unsuspected.  
  
He's a rock. said Dr. J, simply.  
  
Heero turned his head to look at Duo's face again. Duo's mouth was set in a grim line, and the strain  
on his body was visible by the knotted cords around his neck and the deep crevices on each side of   
his mouth.  
  
~Can he teach me how to handle my emotions?~  
  
No, not as long as his program is running.  
  
~HIS program?~  
  
He has too much anger for him to deal with. Professor G recognized this and implanted a  
series of hypnotic suggestions that suppreses it to a great extent. It's a brilliantly crafted design, one   
that works better than a pill. However, like a pill, it only treats symptoms. The underlying cause, or   
the disease, if you want to call it that, is still festering. Someday he'll have to confront his demons.  
  
~Why can't his program just keep working as it is?~  
  
Dr. J's voice was compassionate. Even the strongest dam can hold only so much water before it   
breaks, Heero. The program will eventually fail, like yours. Then the battle will begin. He might be   
able to choose the battlefield, but he won't be able to avoid the battle.  
  
~So what should I do?~  
  
You should stay by his side, as he is staying by yours. Be his conscience when his time comes.   
He'll forgive you it, I'm sure. And as for him: just let him be your friend. He wants it, and you   
deserve it.  
  
~Is that supposed to be a compliment?~ Heero asked sarcastically.  
  
Whoops, I think my time here is running out. said Dr. J. Brace yourself, boy, here comes  
the flood.  
  
~Dr. J?~  
  
No answer.  
  
"Dr. J?"  
  
* * *  
  
tbc. . .  
  
Next chapter: Epilogue (and since it is the epilogue, it might be a while in coming). Please give me your opinion of this one. 


	8. Bones

A/N: Okay, I'll just post this chapter, and when I come back from North Carolina next week I'll  
write the epilogue. Maybe I should rename this fic "One More Chapter?" (shrugs) So sue me.  
  
A big thank you to all my reviewers. And now, chapter eight:  
  
* * *  
  
5:15am:  
  
"Dr. J!"  
  
"Heero?" Duo's voice held mixed hope and disbelief. He turned his head toward Heero and saw him   
looking around with an unfocused expression, but slowly coming back to his senses, and a feeling of   
unutterable relief swept over him. He slipped out quickly from underneath Heero's shoulder and held   
him upright until he was fully sure that he was standing on his own again.  
  
"I was dreaming." Heero said dazedly. "I was awake, but I was dreaming."  
  
"Is he gone?" asked Duo.  
  
Heero nodded.  
  
"For good?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"How much do you remember?" Duo asked carefully. There was so much that depended on Heero's   
answer.  
  
Heero took a moment to recall. He remembered coming to the beach. . . Duo antagonizing him into  
building a "sand" castle. . . getting an itchy red rash. . . blank. . . fighting desperately with his   
controller over Duo's life. . . blank. . . confusion. . . deep, deep turmoil. . . in the deep water. . . in   
the deep, red water. . . and then. . . oh, no. . . oh, no, damn it, he'd lost it!  
  
He'd lost it all, and humiliated himself completely!  
  
He turned away from Duo, not wanting to meet his stare. He felt ashamed and angry, like he had   
been caught soiling himself.  
  
"Heero, don't. . ." Duo put a hand on his shoulder --- which Heero allowed to remain, not willing to   
give up anything more.  
  
"I guess I have a lot to make up for," said Duo. He went around to stand in front of him, and looked  
into his eyes.  
  
Heero clenched his fists, glaring angrily at Duo. Unclenched them. Yes, he remembered all too well.  
  
{{~Strong?~ Heero had always thought of Duo as a weak person, somebody who needed protecting.  
  
{He's a rock. said Dr. J, simply.  
  
{"Look, Dr. J, it's not rock at all, but sand."}}  
  
Duo put his hands on Heero's shoulders. "I'm glad you're back," he said.  
  
Heero's hands, clenching, unclenching, clenching again while he fought his internal battle. His body   
completely tense, his face a rigid, trembling mask while his eyes seemed to want to burn holes right  
through Duo's head. ~Is he trying not to cry?~ Duo wondered. ~Or is he trying not to kill me?~  
  
~This is your fault,~ those eyes seemed to accuse him. ~all your fault, Duo. . . you and that stupid sand castle of yours. . .~  
  
{{He's a rock, said Dr. J, simply.  
  
{"Look, Dr. J, it's not rock at all, but sand."  
  
{"Real sand. . ." And then ---  
  
"I'm glad you're back, Heero. . ." said Duo. "I was"  
  
{--- Deathscythe screaming out into a sea of stars ---  
  
{"Heero, please," Duo pleaded in a hoarse whisper. "TRUST me. . ."  
  
"worried about you."  
  
{--- Deathscythe fighting ---  
  
Heero squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see any more. His entire body shuddered with fear and   
loathing as he vainly tried --- dry-eyed, rigid and scraped bloody raw as he was --- he vainly tried to   
hold back the flood of images and emotions that Dr. J's logic bomb was downloading.  
  
{--- Deathscythe destroying ---}}  
  
And then Duo embraced his slender, payed out form --- tentatively, since Heero was refusing to   
return the gesture. "Sorry, Heero. I know you don't want me with you right now," he sighed wearily   
into his ear. ". . . just. . . I guess for now we'll just have to make do." A plea.  
  
And ~. . . that stupid, God-forsaken sand castle. . .~ he thought angrily.  
  
And then Heero's body gave another titanic spasm --- like a small explosion --- and this time his arms  
rose, and he wound them tightly around Duo's midriff with a hitching sob.  
  
"Heero. . . ?" Duo gasped out.  
  
--- Deathscythe falling ---   
  
And a single hot, bittersweet tear escaped from each of his eyes and fell on Duo's shoulder.  
  
"Stay. . ." said Heero.   
  
--- Deathscythe burning --- !!   
  
With tears of deep gratitude welling up in his eyes, Duo tightened his embrace. "I'll always be here   
for you, Heero," he promised fervently. "Thank you."  
  
"Thank you," said Heero.  
  
And with that, the flood finally came.  
  
* * *  
  
The world weighs on my shoulders  
But what am I to do?  
You sometimes drive me crazy ---  
But I worry about you  
  
I know it makes no difference  
To what you're going through  
But I see the tip of the iceberg ---  
And I worry about you. . .  
  
Absalom  
Absalom  
  
-from "Distant Early Warning" by Neil Peart   
  
* * *  
  
"So he's really gone for good this time?" Duo asked about a half-hour later as they were walking   
slowly back to the plane. Heero had finally come out and explained everything to him.  
  
Heero nodded, wiping his eyes for about the hundredth time. "Mm-hm," he affirmed, sniffing. "His  
program went nonfunctional after it downloaded my detained personal reference files."  
  
Duo put his arm around Heero's shoulder. "They're not 'personal reference files', Heero. They're  
emotions. They're for human beings. And you're a human being, not a computer."  
  
"I know what emotions are," Heero said softly. "But my brain has been trained to perform as a   
computer, and a lot of this raw data simply does not compute."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Such as us being together, like we are. I know from scanning reference materials on biology,   
sociology and religion that men and women are supposed to get together like this and form a bond.   
When it's two persons of the same gender, like us, it's called an aberration."  
  
"That's okay, Heero," said Duo benignly. "So your brain has taken what you read and cross-  
referenced it with your raw input and compared the two with the situation you were in and how   
you're feeling now, and so now it's barfed up doodley-squat. Great, whatever." He stopped and   
turned Heero around to face him. "I'm afraid I don't know how to help you deal with these feelings.   
But just remember that just because your brain was trained to perform like a programmable   
computer. . . that doesn't mean you can't transcend your programming. Human beings can do that.  
We have souls."  
  
Heero considered this for a moment, and then a huge smile lit up his face. "Heh."  
  
~Look at that,~ Duo thought joyously. ~Who needs the sun?~  
  
And as the sun peaked over the horizon, Duo suddenly caught his breath.   
  
"Heero, look!" he exclaimed. "Look at all the shells!"   
  
As far as they could see in both directions, newly deposited shells could be seen, piles upon glittering   
sunlit piles of them. It was as if the gulf had chosen that particular day to give up its treasure,   
revealing the wonders of its depths for only their eyes to see.   
  
"I'm going to pick up a few," said Duo.   
  
"Why?" asked Heero.  
  
"I want a keepsake."  
  
"Duo, I really don't see the purpose ---"   
  
"Come on, Heero!" Duo yelled, running over to the nearest clump.   
  
Heero shook his head and went after him. "Doesn't compute. . ."  
  
Duo knelt and inspected the pile he'd chosen. Here he saw conch shells, tritons, spiky-looking   
murexes, and even a large, rare nautilus, the kind he once saw made into a cup that was sitting on   
Treize Khushrenada's desk, set in a golden stand. Most of them, however, were disappointing --- just   
humble-looking cockleshells, the kind one sees on almost any beach, anywhere in the world. Some of  
them lying about were tinged with blue or brown near the edges, but many were pure white, and they   
all gleamed in the new morning sunlight.   
  
~Like bones.~   
  
"Oh, JEEZ. . ." Duo closed his eyes and shuddered, realizing he'd never be able to collect seashells   
again. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. Heero was standing in front of him with a   
concerned look on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked.   
  
~One shell,~ Duo told himself grimly. ~Just one. As a reminder. . .~  
  
He shuddered again, then reached out and picked up a single small cockleshell. Then he stood up to   
face Heero, fighting the urge to look back over his shoulder.   
  
"On second thought, Heero," he said, his voice quavering. "Forget the shells. Let's just go."   
  
They turned around and walked back to the plane.   
  
* * *  
  
"Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us,   
Let us repeat it now and say, 'O Father, forgive them!' "   
  
-from "Evangeline" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow   
  
Tbc 


	9. Epilogue

They took the Cub out of the Gulf and out over the marshes of Cameron Parish. Duo squinted out   
through the glare of the sunlight streaming into the cockpit from slightly to their right. How innocent   
the day seemed, with the sun rising slowly over those gentle southern lowlands. It was then that he   
thought about how just about anything could be hiding within the briny water below, perhaps   
something dangerous, perhaps something not. A treasure, perhaps. Something to grow on, or hurt   
oneself with. But there was nothing really bad or evil down there. It was just Mother Nature, after all.  
  
Heero's pride seemed to be slowly reasserting itself. He didn't seem to want to talk about what had  
happened on the beach, though he didn't draw away when Duo reached out and experimentally laid a   
hand in his, where it was lying loosely next to the passenger seat. After a moment, they folded their  
hands together, enjoying the touch.  
  
* * *  
  
They landed at Abbeville Municipal, checked the plane in and then drove Duo's car, a brand-new   
Toru Saberblade (black, of course), to the nearest stop-&-rob to charge up the mag-batt. Heero   
went inside to grab some coffee for them both and Duo stayed outside to watch the wire. After   
paying, and brushing off the small talk coming from the man behind the register, Heero came back   
out with the coffee to find Duo leaning back against the car with a thoughtful expression on his face,   
his eyes half-lidded.  
  
*beep* . . . . . *beep* . . . . . *beep* . . . . .  
  
Heero walked over, pulled the plug from the now fully charged battery, and then turned around and   
shoved Duo's coffee into his hands. "Drink this," he said. "I think you need it."  
  
"Oh. . . thanks, Heero," said Duo in a distracted way.  
  
They shared a comfortable, companionable span of silence there next to the by-pass and sipped   
their caffeine. Then Duo cleared his throat.  
  
"Um. . . Heero?"  
  
"Hn?" Heero looked at Duo out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"V'ya ever been to a church?"   
  
". . ."  
  
* * *  
  
They found the church near the river downtown, a huge old Catholic cathedral that had had its   
beginnings in the mid-19th century. It was a red brick edifice with a high steeple and was adjacent   
to what appeared to be an ancient, crumbling rectory made in the late Spanish Romantic style. A   
sign had been newly erected outside near the front sidewalk, a huge one that read:  
  
Church of St. Mary Magdalene:  
Erected in 1846 by Father Antoine Desire Megret,   
founder of Abbeville."  
  
They stopped just inside the front entrance and Duo dipped his hand in the basin of holy water and   
made the Sign of the Cross. Heero began walking toward the sanctuary. Duo reached out and took   
hold of his elbow.  
  
"What is it?" Heero asked.  
  
Duo pointed toward the basin.  
  
"I'm not Catholic," said Heero. "I see no reason to emulate their rites."  
  
"C'mon, man, it won't killya. When in Rome, y'know?"  
  
Heero shrugged and went to the basin. It was easier than arguing with Duo, and he wasn't really all   
that picky about religion anyway.  
  
"See, you didn't melt," Duo ribbed him when he'd finished.  
  
"Hn."  
  
" 'Hn'," repeated Duo mockingly. "Straight from the Gospel of Yuy. 'Hn'."  
  
"Back off, Duo," Heero told him. Duo immediately shut up. Heero sighed inwardly with relief. He   
didn't want fighting between them.  
  
They ended up in front of a rack of votive candles. Duo looked around. The carpet on the floor of   
the sanctuary was a dull red and worn through in places, and the interior was rather ill-lit with only a   
few dim, yellowish lamps overhead. The light coming in through the stained-glass windows had   
taken on an overcast tinge, and by this light Duo could see an old couple sitting placidly in the back   
pew, praying their rosaries.   
  
The Church's fall from grace that had begun in the 21st century was now painfully evident by the   
pieces missing from the carvings that depicted the Passion, which had once magnificently graced   
the walls. Apparently there had been insufficient funds for renewal. Particularly disturbing, Duo   
found, was that there was now no Simon of Cyrene to help Jesus carry his cross.   
  
"I hear singing," said Heero.  
  
Duo listened, and heard what Heero did: Soft voices, tuning themselves up, not quite a melody yet.  
Children. He looked into the choir loft and saw a row of young faces, some peering down at them.  
All looked much like the orphans he'd known on L2 colony.  
  
The choirmaster entered the loft and took his position on the stand. He motioned for the organist to   
begin. Both the organ and the organist were quite awful, but Duo suddenly realized he knew the   
hymn they were singing, and realized also that it had now become one of his favorites. He and   
Heero listened in wonderment as their voices rose, slightly out of tune, but beautiful, nonetheless:  
  
"Strong, gentle children,   
"God made you beautiful,   
"Gave you the wisdom   
"And power you need;   
"Speak in the stillness   
"All you are longing for;   
"Live out your calling   
"To love and to lead.   
  
"Strong, hurting children,  
"Angry and terrified,  
"Open the secrets  
"Your life has concealed;  
"Though you are wounded,  
"Know you are not to blame;  
"Cry out your story  
"Till truth is revealed.  
  
"Strong, knowing children,   
"Utter your cry aloud,  
"Honour the wisdom   
"God gave you at birth;  
"Speak to your elders,   
"Till they have heard your voice;  
"Sing out your vision   
"Of healing on earth."*  
  
Duo realized halfway through that he was crying once again. He looked over at Heero and saw to his  
amazement that the hymn was affecting his newly rediscovered emotions as well. Heero wasn't   
crying yet, but it wouldn't be long.  
  
Duo fished into his pocket and dug out two dollar bills. He put them in the box above the votive  
stand and lit two of the candles, one for each of them. They burned alone there in the gloom, adding  
their light to the meager supply that permeated the sanctuary.  
  
He looked up at the window directly overhead. It showed Jesus Christ rising out of his tomb, and  
dramatically, as the song was coming to an end, the sun came out behind it and lit up the scene with  
brilliant radiance. Now their candles burned by themselves no longer.  
  
Duo thought of his Father Maxwell, and of Father Felician from the Longfellow poem. He thought  
about how they had given all they had for the sake of peace.  
  
"They're not very big, are they?" Heero interrupted his thoughts from behind him. "The flames, I  
mean." The flames coming from the candles were actually very tiny, providing only about half a  
candlepower each.  
  
Duo reached up and put an arm around Heero's shoulders, then he leaned over and kissed him on   
the cheek. He almost laughed at the look of totally innocent surprise that came over his face.   
  
~At least he didn't slug me,~ he thought. ~Oh, God. . . Could I love him any more?~  
  
"S'okay," he responded, pulling himself closer and scratching the back of Heero's head, tousling his  
mop of hair. "They're all they have to be."  
  
And in the choir loft, the children began their singing once more.  
  
* * *  
  
"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks   
to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but  
you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but   
you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for   
violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness   
cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only LOVE CAN DO   
THAT!"   
  
-Martin Luther King, Jr.   
  
FIN  
  
* "Strong, Gentle Children" by Don Damon, 1991 


End file.
